


Primal Hunger

by CompanyPanda, PandaFalls



Category: OC House, The House at Panda Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5638648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompanyPanda/pseuds/CompanyPanda, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFalls/pseuds/PandaFalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Typhus and <a href="http://i1336.photobucket.com/albums/o651/CompanyPanda/Barnaby_zpsr6xibpul.png">Barnaby</a> get a chance to let their desires rule.<br/>(Writing credit for even-numbered chapters goes to CompanyPanda)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the context of Poet’s impromptu house-wide orgies, Violet was always a little picky. He avoided Typhus because the man was rough and demanding. He avoided Athanas when the boy was in his worst heat because their relationship was strictly cuddling and comforting kisses. Categories were important to Violet whenever they were created. If he could, Violet would try to monopolize Barnaby’s attention or purr his way into Poet’s arms where he knew he’d be handled with care. But when both of the men were occupied, Violet would go for the gentler personalities of the house instead.

In today’s case, Violet ended up under Michael. The man was a loving partner, much to the boy’s delight. A large part of the turn-on for Michael was his partner’s utter pleasure, so Violet found his neck sensors and torso thoroughly stimulated as he laid on his back and opened his legs to invite the man in. Being as sex-hungry as he was, Michael got his manhood into the boy real quick, even overlooking the fact that he preferred penises over vaginas as he thrust slow and deep. It took a little bit for Violet to get used to the new penis inside of him before he really relaxed, but Michael waited. _God_ , it was hard to wait! He could feel the kiss of Poet’s aura egging him on, telling him to drill the boy, but this was Violet he was screwing. Everyone knew Barnaby’s little alien was supposed to be handled with care.

Just as Michael was getting ready to speed up, the touch of hands on his hips from behind distracted him. A lube-slickened member pressed into his entrance and sheathed itself inside, causing the veteran to give a groan into Violet’s neck. Who...? The grip of the hands grew firm as they quickly guided Michael’s body into a faster pace, pushing him deep and hard into the squeaking, moaning alien underneath him in the process. Finally the newcomer spoke, bending down to plant his hands on the ground and tuck his face into Michael’s shoulder as he moaned out the veteran’s name.

“ _Mikael…_ ”

Oh _yes_. Now Michael was _really_ enjoying this!

Violet’s presence pretty much took a backseat as Michael turned his head a bit to focus on his boyfriend, but the boy hardly even noticed the change. He loved how close the man was now, their bodies brushing against one another and rocking in sync and the man’s length lightly teased the boy’s sweet spot at an angle that made the buildup slow and suspenseful. He gave a small cry as he felt Michael’s seed shoot into him and slicken his self-lubricating insides even more, the man slowing down but never stopping as Erik’s work continued to move him from behind.

Eventually the slow buildup finally reached its limit and Violet climaxed, his hands gripping at the man’s arms and his tentacles lightly curling around Michael’s prosthetic legs as the man’s shaft worked his sensors from intense ecstasy to tired bliss. Violet’s head fell back onto the floor, his eyes hazy and half-open as they stared at the ceiling. Everything about that coupling would have been near perfect… if it wasn’t for the increasing sensitivity Violet could feel growing between his legs.

It was an accepted fact of Violet’s that he needed a break after most orgasms to calm down before he could go again. Now, Barnaby knew Violet well enough to know how to use the sensitivity and make the boy beg for more right away, and Poet knew sex well enough to know how to get the boy back on the ball in no time. But Michael was neither of those two. He and Erik were on their second winds and still going strong. The man was too busy groaning out his uncharacteristically demanding boyfriend’s name to realize the boy trapped underneath him was asking for a reprieve.

"Stah-... _Ah_... P-please sto-stop." His voice was too soft to be heard. Violet tried to push their weight off of him, but he had never been very good at functioning for himself or anyone else in his state. He couldn't even gather himself up enough to move away, especially with Michael's movements giving him no relief. The rough overstimulation was starting to hurt now, especially with the tense boy’s growing distress added into the mix. His toes curled against the soft pain as he started to whimper. He felt frightened and more than uncomfortable. He was going to cry…

Barnaby might as well have Violet-tuned Spidey senses for how quickly noticed the boy's distress. The sound of a whimper snapped him out of a buildup and led him to turn away from what he was doing, though he'd be sure to get back to it if he got the chance. After all, he doubted he'd have another chance to drill Athanas's mouth while Typhus took the rear. He liked how _intense_ that visual interaction could get. Violet seemed to be getting close to crying Barnaby’s strong hands hooked under him and pulled him out from under the bucking pile. Just in time too. Poet seemed to be stalking towards the bucking pile like a lion after its prey.

"Alright, V?"

Barnaby’s whimpering little goo creature didn’t have much to offer in the way of words. The boy instinctively leaned towards the sound of his best friend’s voice and closed his legs, his entire body twitching from the overstimulation as he shakily leaned his side against the man’s warm torso and tucked his face into Barnaby’s bare chest. Barnaby was familiar with this. This is how Violet used to get before he could orgasm, but Barnaby thought he had put a stop to those unpleasantries once he’d told the boy to finish his work on himself. Well, at least he knew what to do about it now…

Barnaby made sure to be gentle as he kept one cradling arm curved around Violet’s back and moved the other down to press his fingers against the crease where Violet’s thighs met. At first Violet’s shaken mind didn’t register the silent request, but he soon opened them for the man, if not somewhat haltingly. Barnaby could see the boy’s head turning downward to watch the man’s strong hand as it slid between his legs, his middle and ring fingers coming together before slipping up into the boy’s vagina.

Violet let out a small whimper, but nothing more. Barnaby was pleased to see that the boy was making no attempts to protest or move away, expressing an unquestioning obedience that Barnaby had made sure to foster in him on the slave ship all those years ago. Violet’s legs twitched as the fingers in him started shallow, gently massaging the sensors near his entrance to give them that help they needed to come down from the painful high. Once he felt satisfied that those ones were good, he moved deeper and began to massage at the next ones. Slowly, Violet began to untense and his head fell back to let out a soft groan. Barnaby gave a grin at the promising noise. He could see the unconditional trust resting in the boy’s eyes as Violet let his best friend do as he pleased, having learned long ago that everything that the man did for the boy was always to keep him safe and happy.

“ _Boss_ …” Barnaby’s teeth clenched just in time to stifle an involuntary noise into a rough grunt. Violet _knew_ that word was special to Barnaby. He already knew that it often went straight from the man’s ears to his cock in bed situations. But as much as the term reminded him of the wanting erection pressed under the boy’s body, Barnaby told himself to stay focused on his little goo boy’s needs. Violet’s legs were starting to spread now. The boy was using the word as an encouragement and a request for more.

Barnaby didn’t need to be asked twice. He quit all that gentle foolin’ around shit and curved his fingers to press the tips up against the boy’s inner wall, easily locating the boy’s sweet spot. After being with Violet for as long as he had, he reckoned he could find that fuckin’ prime patch of sensors in his sleep. According to Violet he actually _had_ , once. His head came down to take up the boy’s lips as their motions became much more familiar now, Violet’s hands cupping the man’s bearded face while Barnaby drank up those purrs and moans. He followed Violet’s buildup like a veteran mechanic working the engine of his specialty, giving Violet just the right amount of speed and pressure to make the boy’s body arch and writhe. Finally Violet’s body tensed and his thighs shuddered, the inner walls of his vagina contracting around Barnaby’s fingers as his body let loose a final ooze of cum. He let out a soft cry into Barnaby’s mouth which soon dissolved into little whimpers and quite moans as the man gently pulled him through the entirety of the orgasm. Once he was satisfied he had been as thorough as Violet could take, his fingers slowed to a stop and gently pulled out.

It was nice to see Violet smiling again, even if it was a goofy grin of utter bliss. Barnaby kissed that cute little grin and then scooped the boy up into his arms, absently wiping off his fingers on Violet’s leg as he carried the boy over to the couch. Once Violet was comfortable with a pillow under his head and his body curled up on the cushioned seat, Barnaby turned around and set his eyes back on the pair he had left before. It seemed Athanas was on the floor having his own recovery, but Typhus wasn’t done. He sat next to his fiancé with a protective hand on the boy’s leg to keep track of him while his other hand worked tirelessly at his own stiff manhood. Barnaby could tell the way their eyes met that a silent, mutual understanding had been undertaken. He was going to plop that fine piece of British derriere into Typhus's lap and ride him while this lust aura-induced haze still lasted.


	2. Chapter 2

Barnaby had seen the way Typhus snuck peeks at his ass. Barnaby didn't blame him. He was very proud of his rear. The little leather booty shorts he wore around the house all the time showed that off pretty obviously. Typhus was an ass-man, and Barnaby knew it. As perky and cute as Athanas's butt was, Barnaby knew Typhus wouldn't mind a piece of his, and that's exactly what he planned to give him.  
  
After Violet had been taken care of, pulled from under the mess of limbs that made up Poet, Erik, and Michael, Barnaby strutted his way back over to the happy couple, winking at Athanas as the tired Greek lifted his head to look up in curiosity. Barnaby slid down to straddle Typhus's thighs, batting his hand away from his cock and taking up that position instead, grabbing a nearby lube container and adding a bit to his palm before giving the Roman's length a few good pumps. Whether it was from the lustful haze choking the entire living room, Barnaby couldn't be sure, but Athanas seemed fine, and even a little intrigued to watch.  
  
Barnaby leaned in and caught the soldier's bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it with a growl as he swirled his thumb around the head of Typhus's cock, enjoying the feeling of the heavy shaft in his hand. When the soldier's lip escaped his teeth, Barnaby released his cock and turned around, reverse cowboy'ing it and pressing his rear back against Typhus's lap. He hummed pleasurably, rotating his hips and trapping the soldier's cock between his ass and the man's body, grinding back against it as he glanced over his shoulder at him, smirking at him. "C'mon Roman, I know yew've thought about it," he rumbled thickly, giving him a wink.

✏

As Typhus sat with his back to the wall and his free hand on Athanas's leg, his eyes happened to open and come to rest on the green-eyed gaze of the Brit standing across the room. The lust and resolve in Barnaby's eyes was as apparent as the sun in the sky, and suddenly it became all too clear that Barnaby was going to have his way with the meat in the soldier's right hand... and Typhus was going to let him.  
  
Typhus kept pumping even as Barnaby approached, having no intention of making any vulnerable move to invite the Brit in. This was Barnaby, after all. Typhus wasn't about to beg. He didn't move as the man lowered himself down to straddle the Roman, his hand brushing Typhus's fingers away to take up their job.  
  
The soldier tensed. His eyes closed for a moment, the Roman clenching his jaw and breathing in deep through his nose as memories of other big hands suddenly flashed through his mind without warning. He'd forgotten what it was like to have anyone but Athanas touch him like this. Before meeting his fiance, Typhus had had years of strong mitts covered in the same sword calluses as his own. He'd had big men, solid brutes, rough love. Typhus let out a heavy breath as he tried to collect himself, but there was no escaping the effects of the incubus's powers, nor could he escape how painfully hard the change in body type was making him feel. There was no replacing the sleek beauty of Athanas's body, but there was also no denying the muscle memory of so many nights learning to fuck with bigger men. Typhus opened his eyes as Barnaby's teeth dragged against his lip and the man's hand worked at his manhood, a grunt breaking past the soldier's vocal barrier. As the Brit broke away Typhus made sure to glare, his gaze insisting that he was not as deeply affected as he really was.  
  
Barnaby leaned back and turned around, presenting yet another factor of enticement to the soldier. That. Butt. It was a butt at which Typhus had stolen a few glances from time to time, his gaze appreciative like an art connoisseur walking through a gallery. He could look, but he had never gotten even close to trying to touch. After all, the man connected to that ass was... well, an ass. Couple Barnaby's disgusting personality with Typhus's loving devotion to Athanas and you get the soldier's assumption that he would never _ever_ be as close to that butt as he was now. And boy did it look _plush_. It moved back and pressed up against Typhus's shaft, grinding into the man's lap in smooth, experienced rotations. _Sweet mother Venus almighty, have mercy... Ahhhhhhh, gods..._  
  
Typhus's thoughts quickly faltered as he realized his mental moan had escaped past his lips without his permission. His hands were pressed into the floor by now, his nails digging into the carpet as he watched Barnaby's rear with a furrowed brow. The man's words registered in his mind and he gave a small growl. Yes, he'd thought about it, but that was so much different than _doing_ it. Damn it all to Pluto, he wanted it _bad_ and he wanted it _now_.  
  
The Roman soldier's hands lifted off of the floor and moved to Barnaby's waist, feeling the roll and coil of the strong muscles underneath the skin as his fingers slid downwards. The hands continued to move until they reached their prize, the Roman's fingers pressing into the skin and gripping each cheek firmly. What beautiful curves. What perfect symmetry. Typhus had to quickly swallow just to make sure he didn't do anything stupid like start drooling over his new acquisition.  
  
Typhus's eyes moved back up to look at what was visible of Barnaby's face. "Don't disappoint," he grunted with a glare, making sure to not give the man an inch of good will to work with. He was going to use this butt to its fullest, even if the sexy man attached to it was an obnoxious bastard.

✏

Yeah, Barnaby could see the stone wall he had erected between them, could see that Typhus was fighting to keep his glaring, stern demeanor. To his credit, the Roman had a gorgeous face, one that looked just as fine pinched in pleasure because of his little Grecian beauty or growling in anger as they fought for the 100th time. Of course, he would never say this out loud, but he hoped some physical appreciation would be recognized. When sex and pleasure were involved, Barnaby didn't bother keeping up the wall. Sure, Typhus was a hard-headed ass and they disagreed on about everything except the importance of breathing, but Barnaby was a firm believer in sex bringing people closer. It had certainly done that for him and Violet.  
  
The Brit groaned appreciatively as those rough hands took fistfuls of his rear, sighing and pressing back into them, knowing that firm grip Typhus had wasn't all for show. He was getting an eyeful, and Barnaby was all too happy to let him. The redhead scoffed at the words, reaching down between his legs and taking Typhus's shaft in hand, lining up and slowly pressing downward, sucking in an excited breath as the head popped inside. "I never do," he rumbled, resting his hands on his thighs and spreading his knees a bit more, slowly lowering himself down on the slicked member.  
  
Athanas's curiosity got the better of him, and he was soon sitting up against Typhus's side, resting his head on his shoulder and watching the events unfold, one slim white hand curling around his bicep. It was strange. He didn't feel jealous. In a way, he had expected this to come to a head at one point or another. The Grecian wasn't blind to Typhus's wandering eyes, so perhaps this would be a nice treat for him. Athanas smoothed his hand across Typhus's chest, cupping the side of his neck and turning his face toward him, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. _"Is it good?_ he asked quietly in Latin, stroking the side of Typhus's face as Barnaby's rear finally came to settle completely in lap.  
  
Barnaby huffed, closing his eyes and reveling in the stuffed sensation, his head tilting back a bit as he closed his eyes. He hadn't had a good cock in his rear in some time. Violet's tentacles were fun, but they couldn't really compare to the real thing. " _Ugn... Fuckyeah_ ~" he groaned, sliding his hands down against Typhus's legs and resting them just above his shins, lifting his hips slowly until the soldier almost fell out before shoving his ass back down to the base, a warm noise working its way out of his throat before he repeated the motion. Ooooh yes, this was going to be good.

✏

It was strange to see Barnaby like this, especially with all of the effort the man put into playing the tough British bastard while they argued and fought. Now, after all of that posturing and manly brutishness, here was Barnaby greedily taking in Typhus's shaft like a battlefield whore. Only feminine men like Athanas could ever accept another man's member into their body in the Roman's time. Barnaby was shaming himself on Typhus's manhood and loving every second of it, and it was _glorious_. For the first time, not an ounce of the beast was present as Typhus alone licked his lips and stared at their bodies' connection like a predator at a feast. He wouldn't forget this.  
  
The familiar feel of a dainty hand on Typhus's chest did not pull the Roman's eyes away from Barnaby's rear until the fingers jumped up to Typhus's face and turned his head to the side. Hazy eyes looked down at Athanas's calm face and then closed his eyes to accept the small kiss. He recognized Latin caressing his ears and his mind whirled. 'Is it good', he asks. Barnaby had the most beautiful butt and the second most familiar body to him (wrestling can get rather personal) riding on his manhood and Athanas is wondering if it was any good.  
  
Perhaps he should have been a little more forward thinking in that moment. Maybe tell Athanas that he loved him or point out that Barnaby wasn't as tight as him or even lie and say that it was rather all a crushing disappointment compared to expectations. Anything at all would have been a big help in the way of diplomacy in case this incident led to an argument later, but was Typhus thinking about any of that in that moment? Absolutely not. He had a prime specimen on top of him and the love of his life keeping calm next to him and right now there was no time like the present, as far as his focus went. He let out a tight groan right next to Athanas's face and moved his hands up to Barnaby's hips, taking a moment to appreciate the feel of the strong muscles under his fingers before his grip tightened and roughly pulled the man to spear himself on the soldier's shaft once more.  
  
"Move." The words were growled out as an order, their tone gruff as Typhus's hands gripped the man's hips. No more of this experimental slow stuff. He wanted to see Barnaby work.

✏

Athanas couldn't help the slight teasing smile that pulled at his lips. Typhus couldn't even answer him. Well, he sort of answered him in the form of a groan, so Athanas took that as answer enough. He pressed those pillow lips to the man's shoulder before the Roman's attention returned to Barnaby. The Brit meanwhile was taking it in like a pro, groaning a bit louder as those rough hands settled on his hips and pulled him down in one swift motion. He would be lying if he said that gruff order didn't send a shiver down his spine.  
  
Barnaby pulled his hips against the tight grip of Typhus's hands as he rose up, snapping his hips back down into his lap, starting off on a steady rhythm immediately after. Barnaby knew how to ride a cock. He had done it many times before. The soldier might think he was taking a submissive role in this, but Barnaby was never submissive. He was a power bottom when he wasn't topping. Typhus probably didn't understand what that was, but the Brit had a pretty good idea that there were quite a few of those back in the ol' days.  
  
He huffed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as his hips rocked in Typhus's lap, skin slapping against slightly damp skin as his rear popped and ground back against his temporary sex partner. Barnaby wasn't quiet by any means, and as his hands slid between Typhus's outstretched legs to grip the carpet, hips picking up speed to really start riding him, the Brit was a groaning, grunting mess. He glanced back over his shoulder at the Roman, panting harder from the slight workout. "Go on then ya bastard, give it a slap," he growled out, snapping his hips down flush against the soldier's lap and rotating his hips, rocking them from side to side and squeezing his entrance tight around the throbbing length inside it.

✏

Typhus felt the power in Barnaby's body as the man pulled against him to lift his hips again. The hard return pulled another moan from the soldier's mouth, the new, quick beat of the man's movements soon doing away with the soldier's hardened vocal block. What used to be quiet, manly grunts gradually fell away into low, appreciative moans. Barnaby was no stranger to riding a man, that was certain!  
  
As Barnaby moved, Typhus was content to watch and appreciate the view while his hands remained on the Brit's hips for the ride. Though the man seemed to be unabashedly whoring himself on the soldier's shaft, it felt a lot different than watching Athanas or any other slave submissive take in his meat. Aside from the initial order, Barnaby wasn't waiting for any instructions or further actions from Typhus. No, he was taking what he wanted without waiting for the soldier to give it to him. Typhus drank in every sight with a greedy eye. The tilt of the man's head, the repetitive slap of their skin, the arch of his back as he leaned forward to place his hands on the floor... Yes, Barnaby was absolutely taking what he wanted just as much as he was giving Typhus what he wanted.  
  
Typhus clenched his teeth and gave a pleasured growl as Barnaby's hips slapped down to start rolling and grinding down on him, the muscles tightening around Typhus's shaft and causing the soldier to tense. A slap? Oh _yes_. Typhus was always careful, gentle, and calculated on the uncommon occasion that he slapped Athanas in bed. But here, he felt absolutely secure in giving Barnaby's cheek a good slap, enough to leave a faint hand print on the skin. He took this chance to feel up that butt again, his hand gripping and rubbing the slapped cheek before the other hand landed a print on the other and joined in to give it the same treatment. "Enjoying it, aren't you, Hughes." he growled as his fingers moved up Barnaby's lower back only to lightly scrape his nails down the same path. "You would, savage."  
  
Typhus's knees bent and turned outwards, his feet moving in towards his body until they swept underneath Barnaby. Typhus pressed a hand to the ground and pushed himself up until he was sitting on his heels, taking care to make sure he didn't jerk Barnaby off of him in the course of that quick movement. Rather than returning to the man's hips his hands moved to the front of Barnaby's torso, pulling him up until his back was flush against Typhus's chest so that the soldier could look down over Barnaby's shoulder at the body he'd been coupling with. The man was built like a fighter, that was for sure. He could have done well on a Roman battle field, but from what Barnaby understood, the man's ancestors had been filthy barbarians from the north. Who knew he'd end up this close to one and never stick a sword in their gut.  
  
In this position, Typhus's tactile attention turned to Barnaby's front, his fingers gliding over the muscles and feeling up the hardened contours as his chin came to rest on Barnaby's shoulder. "Feeling tired yet, Hughes?" he murmured towards Barnaby's ear with a grin as one hand ventured down to slide over the man's stiff shaft and cup Barnaby's sack. It seemed the Brit was as well-endowed as Typhus. He was glad he wasn't taking that man's girth instead.

✏

The sharp noise of Typhus's hand across one supple cheek and the sting from the hit pulled another noise from Barnaby's throat, pressing his rear back into that rubbing. That was a good strike. "Hit me again," he muttered, soon feeling the slap to the other cheek and hissing at the bite of the slap across his skin. He gave a husky laugh at the soldier's words, groaning at the nails drawing down against his skin. _"Ahhhfuckyeah~"_ If the Roman kept this up, Barnaby would be shooting his load in no time.  
  
When he felt Typhus begin to shift, Barnaby followed his lead, putting in his own effort to make sure they never disconnected as the Roman got into a more proactive position. Good, now they could both put more power into their shifting hips. The Brit leaned into it as Typhus's chest touched his back, bringing up one arm to wrap it behind the other's head, tilting his own to the side as he felt Typhus's chin come to rest there. His body kept moving, muscles tense as he kept his entrance tight and his hips rolling. Locked in a more secure position to really give it to each other, Barnaby was eager to see what the soldier would be doing with his hands. He didn't disappoint.  
  
"Like hell," he mumbled, hearing the grin in Typhus's voice as he matched it with one of his own, chest arching into the traveling hand before it made its way down... down... _"Ugggnn--"_ His cock jumped in Typhus's hand, head falling back on the Roman's shoulder as he bucked into the hold. Well, it was nice to know that at least Typhus was a considerate lover. He dragged his bottom lip under his teeth, muffling the fresh sounds bubbling out of his throat as he pumped his hips forward into that hand and back onto that spearing shaft, giving a good sultry roll of his hips from time to time just to keep things interesting. "What about yew? Gettin' fatigued?" he rumbled, turning his head to smirk against Typhus's cheek before outright moaning in his ear, tilting his head back enough to bite at his earlobe.

✏

Barnaby's shaft felt heavy in Typhus's hand, especially compared to the delectable little beauty of a member that he was used to these days. Here was something that the soldier could really wrap his fingers around and squeeze, which he gladly did as the Brit began to roll his hips up into the man's hand. He was really starting to lose it now. With Barnaby holding onto him and their bodies rubbing against one another, this felt a lot more personal and involved as compared to the last position. He could smell Barnaby's masculine musk and feel every breath heave his chest under the soldier's hand. Every extra roll of the hips was echoed in the back muscles working against Typhus's torso. Typhus hips moved with Barnaby, putting in some effort to meet his rear halfway.  
  
Typhus barely heard Barnaby's counter tease through the growing haze in his head, but his mind did catch it and he gave a low chuckle. Funny, but it didn't bother him to feel the Brit's smirking mouth against his cheek. Rather than wanting to punch it in as usual, the contact made his jaw clench and his heart skip. A sudden moan let loose in his ear and Typhus gave a sharp gasp, his hips reflexively giving a sudden rough buck into the man response. " _Gods,_ Barnaby," he moaned up into the air as his hips faltered for a short moment, a natural habit acquired from instinctively stopping and checking Athanas's status after loosing control like that in bed.  
  
Enough of this. Barnaby was so eager to give Typhus everything he wanted and Typhus was still holding back. No more of that now, he decided as his hand moved away from Barnaby's chest. He moved his fingers up to the man's chin, keeping Barnaby's head turned while the soldier brought his own face up to meet him and mashed their lips together, greedily kissing the man with the entirety of his lustful passion. His hips started back up, this time setting the rough, hard pace that Barnaby's moan had ignited and keeping that rhythm strong.

✏

This was the pinnacle, the bright, glorious moment in their coupling. The moment Typhus gasped and let his name slip, _fuck_ , it was better than an orgasm. They had been chipping away at each other's shells since they started their romp, and now it felt different. Now they were two men truly enjoying a shared unison of heavy, muscled bodies moving as one. The rest of the room might as well have been erased, because all Barnaby could hear was Typhus's breath and the swish of skin on skin.  
  
The kiss surprised him, but it didn't stop his eyes from sliding shut once more as their lips pressed together in some primal dance. He could feel Typhus's stubble against his lips, knowing his own beard must be scratchy. The Brit moaned in the Roman's mouth as his hips snapped back, urging the other's hips to give him that rough treatment from just a moment ago. He hadn't missed the way Typhus's hips faltered. Seems the soldier didn't get to pound his little lover as often as his mind wished. Barnaby's tongue snuck in past his lips, feeling the edge of his teeth and tasting his heady flavor. He wouldn't forget this taste.  
  
With Typhus's other hand still wrapped around his shaft, he began to feel that build up, that quivering spike of pleasure that signaled a coming orgasm. Barnaby was chasing it, he wanted it. He also wanted the Roman to spill that hot load he knew was on its way. In the back of his mind, he had a sneaking suspicion that the soldier wanted nothing less than to claim him in the most animalistic way that he could, and Barnaby was ready for it.  
  
"Harder. _Fuckin' hellI'mclose_ \--" he urged into Typhus's mouth, groaning and nipping and licking at his lips as his hips sped up further, thrusting back against Typhus with nothing held back, snapping those muscular hips with all the years of accumulated bedroom skill he had. The arm curled behind Typhus's head grabbed a fistful of his short hair, the other hand coming back to grasp the soldier's hip as his thighs began to shake. His moans were breathier, broken up, his length throbbing hard in Typhus's hand, cursing under his breath as another surge of pleasure spiked. Just a little more...

✏

Typhus enjoyed every bit of rough, gruff treatment against his lips as Barnaby's scratchy beard and talented tongue went to work. He drank in every unrestrained moan that poured from the man's throat, returning his own growling groans and pleasured moans as his hips rammed up into Barnaby with nothing held back. Typhus was drowning in the intensity of the moment and loving every second of it, a small smile cracking over his lips as he felt the warning tremors of an approaching orgasm rippled through the man's body under his hands. There were fingers pulling at his hair, teeth nipping at his lips, a rumbling voice egging him on, and he just couldn't take it anymore, he was so close...  
  
The hand on Barnaby's chin suddenly let go to pull behind Barnaby and grasp at the hair on the back of the man's head, turning his face forward once more and angling it to expose the skin on Barnaby's neck. The Roman groaned into the skin as he ravished it during those last few moments of the buildup, laying claim to that sensitive skin and controlling the man's head as remnants of his master mentality urged him to control and dominate the vessel into which he was about to let loose the peak of his pleasure. His other hand let go of the Brit to grip his hip, following their fast, heavy pace until blinding white pleasure seared his vision and caused him to cry out into the man's neck. His hips drilled up into Barnaby deep and hard, his hand pulling the Brit's body back into him as he let loose a thick rope of semen with each exuberant climactic thrust. He hadn't been hit this hard by an orgasm in a long time, and his body did not stop until he could feel the overflow beginning to leak out onto the front of his own thighs.  
  
_Gods almighty..._ Typhus's head was spinning as his climax finally dumped him back on the shores of reality to recover on his own. For a moment he forgot where he was and who he was with, his mind only focused on how unfathomably _amazing_ he felt right now swimming in the bliss of having so much pent up energy finally released and out of his system. Shaking, his fingers opened and slipped out of his partner's hair as his head dropped forward to rest his chin back on the sweaty shoulder in front of him. He was panting, his eyes closed and his hands on the other man's hips as he simply took a second to revel in the presence of this warm body and this heavy blanket of post-orgasmic bliss.

✏

The teeth and lips on his neck is probably what did it, the final straw that broke the camel's back. Or maybe it was the noises, those were also pretty fantastic. Whatever the final push was, the push was a shove, a hard one, and Barnaby was groaning low in his throat as his shaft jumped and he came in slow heavy spurts. The Brit's releases weren't exuberant, they didn't shoot off like a bottle rocket of a horny teenager, but there was no denying the hard shivering of his lower body as he oozed out his heavy release down his shaft and dripping onto the floor in front of him. Fuck that felt good.  
  
As that was happening and his hips were slowing, he felt Typhus's body overcome with the same thing, felt the heavy release and the breathy moan against his neck, the way the soldier hung onto him in his powerful climax. He knew the demon's aura had a little something to do with how much they had come and how heightened the pleasure was, but goddamn if they didn't do a fine fucking job on their own. Maybe they had needed this. Maybe their "friendship" would be better for it.  
  
Barnaby felt a little lightheaded as their bodies leaned against one another and came down from the high, the redhead breathing in deep to catch his breath. At one point Athanas had joined Violet on the couch, better to be comfortable to watch the activities, and sometime during their coupling, Poet had finished with his two horny human boys. The three of them were sitting back against the couch's front, Erik wrapped around Michael in a tired but warm embrace.  
  
"Well, if no one else is going to say it, then I will: That, was absolutely gorgeous. Hottest thing I've seen in a while." Erik blushed at Poet's words, pressing his face against Michael's hair. He was in silent agreement. Barnaby looked over at Poet, the demon looking smug and completely satisfied. As he bloody well should be after all the sex and energy he had fed from. The Brit managed to snort, lowering his arm from behind Typhus's head, placing both hands back on the soldier's hips as he eased himself forward, just enough that the man fell out of him. "Well, I hope yew got it on film," he muttered. It probably wouldn't happen again, maybe not even in an orgy setting.  
  
"I record everything at all times. It would not be a problem for me to put it on your computer or mobile device if you so desired," Came Sigma's voice from across the room, the droid having sat on the other side, away from the activities, simply watching. The Brit rolled his eyes, easing his ass onto the carpet and sitting down, leaning on one hand and running his fingers through his hair with the other. Finally, he looked back over at Typhus, attempting to get a read on him. Of course, the charade had to end. The two of them weren't meant to be buddies. At least not in front of the eyes of the rest of the house. "After yer dick cools off, we'll meet up later and I can wreck yer fuckin' face," he said, holding up a clenched fist with a smirk.

✏

Typhus's tired eyes opened ad rested on the floor, the man taking deep breaths as his mind began to come around and grasp what had just happened. He'd just had one of the most intense orgasm of his life at the hands (or ass, rather) of one of the biggest pricks in the household. Every second had been absolutely crazy, but he didn't think he wanted to take any of it back. Whatever it was that had just passed between him and his brawl buddy, it wasn't something he would be able to forget, that was for certain.  
  
Suddenly the voice of Poet pulled the Roman from his thoughts and he looked over towards the couch to find six sets of eyes all focused on him and Barnaby. _WHAT._ For someone who liked to keep his most complex emotions and experiences private, this was the absolute worst way to be pulled out of his happy relaxed state. He felt bewildered as he mutely looked from the couch to Barnaby and back as the man pulled off of him to sit on the floor. What was Sigma saying about recording? Why was everyone watching? When had they finished??  
  
Typhus's numb stare turned back to Barnaby was he held up a hand and offered a fist gesture towards Typhus, the soldier's gaze finally snapping out of its muddled surprise and falling into dark, quiet displeasure. He didn't know what to say. He was too embarrassed to come up with a good, manly response and too angry at everyone else to even look up again as he quickly gathered his clothes and stood. "Not before I kick the incubus's teeth in," he finally growled quietly, his head bowed and his gaze on the floor as he stormed out of the room. _Damn it. Damn them all to Pluto._ He needed to get away. He needed a shower. Later, he might work up his broken pride into letting him out of the room again and when that time came, Barnaby was going to _bleed_.


	3. Chapter 3

Yeah, Barnaby could see the stone wall he had erected between them, could see that Typhus was fighting to keep his glaring, stern demeanor. To his credit, the Roman had a gorgeous face, one that looked just as fine pinched in pleasure because of his little Grecian beauty or growling in anger as they fought for the 100th time. Of course, he would never say this out loud, but he hoped some physical appreciation would be recognized. When sex and pleasure were involved, Barnaby didn't bother keeping up the wall. Sure, Typhus was a hard-headed ass and they disagreed on about everything except the importance of breathing, but Barnaby was a firm believer in sex bringing people closer. It had certainly done that for him and Violet.  
  
The Brit groaned appreciatively as those rough hands took fistfuls of his rear, sighing and pressing back into them, knowing that firm grip Typhus had wasn't all for show. He was getting an eyeful, and Barnaby was all too happy to let him. The redhead scoffed at the words, reaching down between his legs and taking Typhus's shaft in hand, lining up and slowly pressing downward, sucking in an excited breath as the head popped inside. "I never do," he rumbled, resting his hands on his thighs and spreading his knees a bit more, slowly lowering himself down on the slicked member.  
  
Athanas's curiosity got the better of him, and he was soon sitting up against Typhus's side, resting his head on his shoulder and watching the events unfold, one slim white hand curling around his bicep. It was strange. He didn't feel jealous. In a way, he had expected this to come to a head at one point or another. The Grecian wasn't blind to Typhus's wandering eyes, so perhaps this would be a nice treat for him. Athanas smoothed his hand across Typhus's chest, cupping the side of his neck and turning his face toward him, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. _"Is it good?_ he asked quietly in Latin, stroking the side of Typhus's face as Barnaby's rear finally came to settle completely in lap.  
  
Barnaby huffed, closing his eyes and reveling in the stuffed sensation, his head tilting back a bit as he closed his eyes. He hadn't had a good cock in his rear in some time. Violet's tentacles were fun, but they couldn't really compare to the real thing. " _Ugn... Fuckyeah_ ~" he groaned, sliding his hands down against Typhus's legs and resting them just above his shins, lifting his hips slowly until the soldier almost fell out before shoving his ass back down to the base, a warm noise working its way out of his throat before he repeated the motion. Ooooh yes, this was going to be good.


	4. Chapter 4

It was strange to see Barnaby like this, especially with all of the effort the man put into playing the tough British bastard while they argued and fought. Now, after all of that posturing and manly brutishness, here was Barnaby greedily taking in Typhus's shaft like a battlefield whore. Only feminine men like Athanas could ever accept another man's member into their body in the Roman's time. Barnaby was shaming himself on Typhus's manhood and loving every second of it, and it was _glorious_. For the first time, not an ounce of the beast was present as Typhus alone licked his lips and stared at their bodies' connection like a predator at a feast. He wouldn't forget this.  
  
The familiar feel of a dainty hand on Typhus's chest did not pull the Roman's eyes away from Barnaby's rear until the fingers jumped up to Typhus's face and turned his head to the side. Hazy eyes looked down at Athanas's calm face and then closed his eyes to accept the small kiss. He recognized Latin caressing his ears and his mind whirled. 'Is it good', he asks. Barnaby had the most beautiful butt and the second most familiar body to him (wrestling can get rather personal) riding on his manhood and Athanas is wondering if it was any good.  
  
Perhaps he should have been a little more forward thinking in that moment. Maybe tell Athanas that he loved him or point out that Barnaby wasn't as tight as him or even lie and say that it was rather all a crushing disappointment compared to expectations. Anything at all would have been a big help in the way of diplomacy in case this incident led to an argument later, but was Typhus thinking about any of that in that moment? Absolutely not. He had a prime specimen on top of him and the love of his life keeping calm next to him and right now there was no time like the present, as far as his focus went. He let out a tight groan right next to Athanas's face and moved his hands up to Barnaby's hips, taking a moment to appreciate the feel of the strong muscles under his fingers before his grip tightened and roughly pulled the man to spear himself on the soldier's shaft once more.  
  
"Move." The words were growled out as an order, their tone gruff as Typhus's hands gripped the man's hips. No more of this experimental slow stuff. He wanted to see Barnaby work.


	5. Chapter 5

Athanas couldn't help the slight teasing smile that pulled at his lips. Typhus couldn't even answer him. Well, he sort of answered him in the form of a groan, so Athanas took that as answer enough. He pressed those pillow lips to the man's shoulder before the Roman's attention returned to Barnaby. The Brit meanwhile was taking it in like a pro, groaning a bit louder as those rough hands settled on his hips and pulled him down in one swift motion. He would be lying if he said that gruff order didn't send a shiver down his spine.  
  
Barnaby pulled his hips against the tight grip of Typhus's hands as he rose up, snapping his hips back down into his lap, starting off on a steady rhythm immediately after. Barnaby knew how to ride a cock. He had done it many times before. The soldier might think he was taking a submissive role in this, but Barnaby was never submissive. He was a power bottom when he wasn't topping. Typhus probably didn't understand what that was, but the Brit had a pretty good idea that there were quite a few of those back in the ol' days.  
  
He huffed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as his hips rocked in Typhus's lap, skin slapping against slightly damp skin as his rear popped and ground back against his temporary sex partner. Barnaby wasn't quiet by any means, and as his hands slid between Typhus's outstretched legs to grip the carpet, hips picking up speed to really start riding him, the Brit was a groaning, grunting mess. He glanced back over his shoulder at the Roman, panting harder from the slight workout. "Go on then ya bastard, give it a slap," he growled out, snapping his hips down flush against the soldier's lap and rotating his hips, rocking them from side to side and squeezing his entrance tight around the throbbing length inside it.


	6. Chapter 6

Typhus felt the power in Barnaby's body as the man pulled against him to lift his hips again. The hard return pulled another moan from the soldier's mouth, the new, quick beat of the man's movements soon doing away with the soldier's hardened vocal block. What used to be quiet, manly grunts gradually fell away into low, appreciative moans. Barnaby was no stranger to riding a man, that was certain!  
  
As Barnaby moved, Typhus was content to watch and appreciate the view while his hands remained on the Brit's hips for the ride. Though the man seemed to be unabashedly whoring himself on the soldier's shaft, it felt a lot different than watching Athanas or any other slave submissive take in his meat. Aside from the initial order, Barnaby wasn't waiting for any instructions or further actions from Typhus. No, he was taking what he wanted without waiting for the soldier to give it to him. Typhus drank in every sight with a greedy eye. The tilt of the man's head, the repetitive slap of their skin, the arch of his back as he leaned forward to place his hands on the floor... Yes, Barnaby was absolutely taking what he wanted just as much as he was giving Typhus what he wanted.  
  
Typhus clenched his teeth and gave a pleasured growl as Barnaby's hips slapped down to start rolling and grinding down on him, the muscles tightening around Typhus's shaft and causing the soldier to tense. A slap? Oh _yes_. Typhus was always careful, gentle, and calculated on the uncommon occasion that he slapped Athanas in bed. But here, he felt absolutely secure in giving Barnaby's cheek a good slap, enough to leave a faint hand print on the skin. He took this chance to feel up that butt again, his hand gripping and rubbing the slapped cheek before the other hand landed a print on the other and joined in to give it the same treatment. "Enjoying it, aren't you, Hughes." he growled as his fingers moved up Barnaby's lower back only to lightly scrape his nails down the same path. "You would, savage."  
  
Typhus's knees bent and turned outwards, his feet moving in towards his body until they swept underneath Barnaby. Typhus pressed a hand to the ground and pushed himself up until he was sitting on his heels, taking care to make sure he didn't jerk Barnaby off of him in the course of that quick movement. Rather than returning to the man's hips his hands moved to the front of Barnaby's torso, pulling him up until his back was flush against Typhus's chest so that the soldier could look down over Barnaby's shoulder at the body he'd been coupling with. The man was built like a fighter, that was for sure. He could have done well on a Roman battle field, but from what Barnaby understood, the man's ancestors had been filthy barbarians from the north. Who knew he'd end up this close to one and never stick a sword in their gut.  
  
In this position, Typhus's tactile attention turned to Barnaby's front, his fingers gliding over the muscles and feeling up the hardened contours as his chin came to rest on Barnaby's shoulder. "Feeling tired yet, Hughes?" he murmured towards Barnaby's ear with a grin as one hand ventured down to slide over the man's stiff shaft and cup Barnaby's sack. It seemed the Brit was as well-endowed as Typhus. He was glad he wasn't taking that man's girth instead.


	7. Chapter 7

The sharp noise of Typhus's hand across one supple cheek and the sting from the hit pulled another noise from Barnaby's throat, pressing his rear back into that rubbing. That was a good strike. "Hit me again," he muttered, soon feeling the slap to the other cheek and hissing at the bite of the slap across his skin. He gave a husky laugh at the soldier's words, groaning at the nails drawing down against his skin. _"Ahhhfuckyeah~"_ If the Roman kept this up, Barnaby would be shooting his load in no time.  
  
When he felt Typhus begin to shift, Barnaby followed his lead, putting in his own effort to make sure they never disconnected as the Roman got into a more proactive position. Good, now they could both put more power into their shifting hips. The Brit leaned into it as Typhus's chest touched his back, bringing up one arm to wrap it behind the other's head, tilting his own to the side as he felt Typhus's chin come to rest there. His body kept moving, muscles tense as he kept his entrance tight and his hips rolling. Locked in a more secure position to really give it to each other, Barnaby was eager to see what the soldier would be doing with his hands. He didn't disappoint.  
  
"Like hell," he mumbled, hearing the grin in Typhus's voice as he matched it with one of his own, chest arching into the traveling hand before it made its way down... down... _"Ugggnn--"_ His cock jumped in Typhus's hand, head falling back on the Roman's shoulder as he bucked into the hold. Well, it was nice to know that at least Typhus was a considerate lover. He dragged his bottom lip under his teeth, muffling the fresh sounds bubbling out of his throat as he pumped his hips forward into that hand and back onto that spearing shaft, giving a good sultry roll of his hips from time to time just to keep things interesting. "What about yew? Gettin' fatigued?" he rumbled, turning his head to smirk against Typhus's cheek before outright moaning in his ear, tilting his head back enough to bite at his earlobe.


	8. Chapter 8

Barnaby's shaft felt heavy in Typhus's hand, especially compared to the delectable little beauty of a member that he was used to these days. Here was something that the soldier could really wrap his fingers around and squeeze, which he gladly did as the Brit began to roll his hips up into the man's hand. He was really starting to lose it now. With Barnaby holding onto him and their bodies rubbing against one another, this felt a lot more personal and involved as compared to the last position. He could smell Barnaby's masculine musk and feel every breath heave his chest under the soldier's hand. Every extra roll of the hips was echoed in the back muscles working against Typhus's torso. Typhus hips moved with Barnaby, putting in some effort to meet his rear halfway.  
  
Typhus barely heard Barnaby's counter tease through the growing haze in his head, but his mind did catch it and he gave a low chuckle. Funny, but it didn't bother him to feel the Brit's smirking mouth against his cheek. Rather than wanting to punch it in as usual, the contact made his jaw clench and his heart skip. A sudden moan let loose in his ear and Typhus gave a sharp gasp, his hips reflexively giving a sudden rough buck into the man response. " _Gods,_ Barnaby," he moaned up into the air as his hips faltered for a short moment, a natural habit acquired from instinctively stopping and checking Athanas's status after loosing control like that in bed.  
  
Enough of this. Barnaby was so eager to give Typhus everything he wanted and Typhus was still holding back. No more of that now, he decided as his hand moved away from Barnaby's chest. He moved his fingers up to the man's chin, keeping Barnaby's head turned while the soldier brought his own face up to meet him and mashed their lips together, greedily kissing the man with the entirety of his lustful passion. His hips started back up, this time setting the rough, hard pace that Barnaby's moan had ignited and keeping that rhythm strong.


	9. Chapter 9

This was the pinnacle, the bright, glorious moment in their coupling. The moment Typhus gasped and let his name slip, _fuck_ , it was better than an orgasm. They had been chipping away at each other's shells since they started their romp, and now it felt different. Now they were two men truly enjoying a shared unison of heavy, muscled bodies moving as one. The rest of the room might as well have been erased, because all Barnaby could hear was Typhus's breath and the swish of skin on skin.  
  
The kiss surprised him, but it didn't stop his eyes from sliding shut once more as their lips pressed together in some primal dance. He could feel Typhus's stubble against his lips, knowing his own beard must be scratchy. The Brit moaned in the Roman's mouth as his hips snapped back, urging the other's hips to give him that rough treatment from just a moment ago. He hadn't missed the way Typhus's hips faltered. Seems the soldier didn't get to pound his little lover as often as his mind wished. Barnaby's tongue snuck in past his lips, feeling the edge of his teeth and tasting his heady flavor. He wouldn't forget this taste.  
  
With Typhus's other hand still wrapped around his shaft, he began to feel that build up, that quivering spike of pleasure that signaled a coming orgasm. Barnaby was chasing it, he wanted it. He also wanted the Roman to spill that hot load he knew was on its way. In the back of his mind, he had a sneaking suspicion that the soldier wanted nothing less than to claim him in the most animalistic way that he could, and Barnaby was ready for it.  
  
"Harder. _Fuckin' hellI'mclose_ \--" he urged into Typhus's mouth, groaning and nipping and licking at his lips as his hips sped up further, thrusting back against Typhus with nothing held back, snapping those muscular hips with all the years of accumulated bedroom skill he had. The arm curled behind Typhus's head grabbed a fistful of his short hair, the other hand coming back to grasp the soldier's hip as his thighs began to shake. His moans were breathier, broken up, his length throbbing hard in Typhus's hand, cursing under his breath as another surge of pleasure spiked. Just a little more...


	10. Chapter 10

Typhus enjoyed every bit of rough, gruff treatment against his lips as Barnaby's scratchy beard and talented tongue went to work. He drank in every unrestrained moan that poured from the man's throat, returning his own growling groans and pleasured moans as his hips rammed up into Barnaby with nothing held back. Typhus was drowning in the intensity of the moment and loving every second of it, a small smile cracking over his lips as he felt the warning tremors of an approaching orgasm rippled through the man's body under his hands. There were fingers pulling at his hair, teeth nipping at his lips, a rumbling voice egging him on, and he just couldn't take it anymore, he was so close...  
  
The hand on Barnaby's chin suddenly let go to pull behind Barnaby and grasp at the hair on the back of the man's head, turning his face forward once more and angling it to expose the skin on Barnaby's neck. The Roman groaned into the skin as he ravished it during those last few moments of the buildup, laying claim to that sensitive skin and controlling the man's head as remnants of his master mentality urged him to control and dominate the vessel into which he was about to let loose the peak of his pleasure. His other hand let go of the Brit to grip his hip, following their fast, heavy pace until blinding white pleasure seared his vision and caused him to cry out into the man's neck. His hips drilled up into Barnaby deep and hard, his hand pulling the Brit's body back into him as he let loose a thick rope of semen with each exuberant climactic thrust. He hadn't been hit this hard by an orgasm in a long time, and his body did not stop until he could feel the overflow beginning to leak out onto the front of his own thighs.  
  
_Gods almighty..._ Typhus's head was spinning as his climax finally dumped him back on the shores of reality to recover on his own. For a moment he forgot where he was and who he was with, his mind only focused on how unfathomably _amazing_ he felt right now swimming in the bliss of having so much pent up energy finally released and out of his system. Shaking, his fingers opened and slipped out of his partner's hair as his head dropped forward to rest his chin back on the sweaty shoulder in front of him. He was panting, his eyes closed and his hands on the other man's hips as he simply took a second to revel in the presence of this warm body and this heavy blanket of post-orgasmic bliss.


	11. Chapter 11

The teeth and lips on his neck is probably what did it, the final straw that broke the camel's back. Or maybe it was the noises, those were also pretty fantastic. Whatever the final push was, the push was a shove, a hard one, and Barnaby was groaning low in his throat as his shaft jumped and he came in slow heavy spurts. The Brit's releases weren't exuberant, they didn't shoot off like a bottle rocket of a horny teenager, but there was no denying the hard shivering of his lower body as he oozed out his heavy release down his shaft and dripping onto the floor in front of him. Fuck that felt good.  
  
As that was happening and his hips were slowing, he felt Typhus's body overcome with the same thing, felt the heavy release and the breathy moan against his neck, the way the soldier hung onto him in his powerful climax. He knew the demon's aura had a little something to do with how much they had come and how heightened the pleasure was, but goddamn if they didn't do a fine fucking job on their own. Maybe they had needed this. Maybe their "friendship" would be better for it.  
  
Barnaby felt a little lightheaded as their bodies leaned against one another and came down from the high, the redhead breathing in deep to catch his breath. At one point Athanas had joined Violet on the couch, better to be comfortable to watch the activities, and sometime during their coupling, Poet had finished with his two horny human boys. The three of them were sitting back against the couch's front, Erik wrapped around Michael in a tired but warm embrace.  
  
"Well, if no one else is going to say it, then I will: That, was absolutely gorgeous. Hottest thing I've seen in a while." Erik blushed at Poet's words, pressing his face against Michael's hair. He was in silent agreement. Barnaby looked over at Poet, the demon looking smug and completely satisfied. As he bloody well should be after all the sex and energy he had fed from. The Brit managed to snort, lowering his arm from behind Typhus's head, placing both hands back on the soldier's hips as he eased himself forward, just enough that the man fell out of him. "Well, I hope yew got it on film," he muttered. It probably wouldn't happen again, maybe not even in an orgy setting.  
  
"I record everything at all times. It would not be a problem for me to put it on your computer or mobile device if you so desired," Came Sigma's voice from across the room, the droid having sat on the other side, away from the activities, simply watching. The Brit rolled his eyes, easing his ass onto the carpet and sitting down, leaning on one hand and running his fingers through his hair with the other. Finally, he looked back over at Typhus, attempting to get a read on him. Of course, the charade had to end. The two of them weren't meant to be buddies. At least not in front of the eyes of the rest of the house. "After yer dick cools off, we'll meet up later and I can wreck yer fuckin' face," he said, holding up a clenched fist with a smirk.


	12. Chapter 12

Typhus's tired eyes opened ad rested on the floor, the man taking deep breaths as his mind began to come around and grasp what had just happened. He'd just had one of the most intense orgasm of his life at the hands (or ass, rather) of one of the biggest pricks in the household. Every second had been absolutely crazy, but he didn't think he wanted to take any of it back. Whatever it was that had just passed between him and his brawl buddy, it wasn't something he would be able to forget, that was for certain.  
  
Suddenly the voice of Poet pulled the Roman from his thoughts and he looked over towards the couch to find six sets of eyes all focused on him and Barnaby. _WHAT._ For someone who liked to keep his most complex emotions and experiences private, this was the absolute worst way to be pulled out of his happy relaxed state. He felt bewildered as he mutely looked from the couch to Barnaby and back as the man pulled off of him to sit on the floor. What was Sigma saying about recording? Why was everyone watching? When had they finished??  
  
Typhus's numb stare turned back to Barnaby was he held up a hand and offered a fist gesture towards Typhus, the soldier's gaze finally snapping out of its muddled surprise and falling into dark, quiet displeasure. He didn't know what to say. He was too embarrassed to come up with a good, manly response and too angry at everyone else to even look up again as he quickly gathered his clothes and stood. "Not before I kick the incubus's teeth in," he finally growled quietly, his head bowed and his gaze on the floor as he stormed out of the room. _Damn it. Damn them all to Pluto._ He needed to get away. He needed a shower. Later, he might work up his broken pride into letting him out of the room again and when that time came, Barnaby was going to _bleed_.


End file.
